


Strawberry Shortcake

by galaxystiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feminist Themes, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Rude Castiel, Rude Dean, cocktails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxystiel/pseuds/galaxystiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a case goes bust, Dean decides he wants three things. Good food, good beer, and a good time between the sheets. Two out of three isn't bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberry Shortcake

“Case is a bust,” Dean said firmly as he retook his seat at the table opposite his brother. “I just spent fifteen minutes talking to some old guy who was so wasted he couldn’t even spell G&T.”

Sam blinked and then laughed. “I’m surprised you even know what a G&T is, Dean. I mean, it’s kind of a chick drink.”

Dean fixed him with a stare. “Not the point, Sammy. Anyway, turns out this old dude saw the whole damn thing. Some guy across the street set his dog on the victim. It’s not a skinwalker. So we can get back on the road whenever. But first, I want a nice cold beer, and maybe a burger.”

He got up to retake his place at the bar, only this time to get a drink for himself and Sam, instead of trying to sweet talk some old douchebag into spilling his guts. Not literally, of course. For once, their case turned out to be nothing more than just a domestic dispute between neighbours. Dean couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed at the waste of time, he just wanted some downtime that involved good beer, good food, and maybe a good time between the sheets if the opportunity presented itself.

Though Dean had to admit, it was kind of slim pickings. Everyone in here was on the wrong side of fifty. Still, two out of three ain’t bad. Dean smirked at the internal joke as he leaned against the bar.

He heard the door to the bar swing open and glanced in that direction idly, pausing when he saw two guys enter. They didn’t look anything out of the ordinary, really. One was short, and he really meant short, with what could only be described as gold hair. He had a shrewd look about him. Dean turned his attention to the other guy, biting back a whistle.

Sex hair. That was what caught his attention first. The thick dark hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb in forever, and his gaze drifted down to a chiselled jawline, with light stubble, and… a trenchcoat? He barked out a laugh and then turned away quickly when it caught the guy’s attention, clearing his throat as he waited for the bartender to finish serving the guy next to him.

After a moment, he turned back to look at the guys again, watching as the shorter guy pointed at something on the menu and murmured something inaudible.

“You wantin’ somethin’ or not?” The bartender grunted.

Dean turned to him quickly, giving a sheepish grin at being caught staring. “Two beers, please.”

Someone nudged in next to him and he glanced idly, pausing when he saw the trenchcoat guy. Only now did he notice the bright blue eyes, which temporarily rendered him speechless.

“Uh, a strawberry shortcake and a mojito, please.” The trenchcoat guy asked the second bartender uncertainly.

Woah, that was a deep voice. Did they guy gargle acid for a living or something? Jesus. It went straight to Dean’s crotch. Shifting his leg, he grinned over at him.

“Dude, this is a bar not a bakery. The hell is a strawberry shortcake?” He couldn’t help himself, the words came out without his permission. “Sounds like one of those fruity girly cocktails. The kind of thing that comes with a mountain of cream and an umbrella.”

The guy turned to him, his eyebrow raised in a look of cool amusement. “Yeah? That’s exactly what it is, and you shouldn’t knock it until you try it. I suppose you think I should order a ‘man’s drink’. What, exactly, constitutes as a ‘man’s drink’?”

Dean faltered for a brief moment and then shrugged. “Beer? Whisky? Something that doesn’t come with a straw, at least.”

Smirking, the guy shook his head. “Does it make you feel more comfortable with your masculinity, drinking a beer and passing judgments?” he queried, lightly. “It sounds to me like a strange way to live, denying yourself something just because it’s seen as feminine. It implies there’s something wrong with being a woman, which there’s not. Still, if you must keep yourself buried in that closet, well, who am I to judge? Enjoy your beer.”

He smirked and took his drinks, leaving Dean stunned and completely speechless. Nobody had ever managed to completely shut him down like that. He actually felt like kind of a douche. Taking his beer, his cheeks scarlet, he turned to see Sam laughing at him. He pointedly kept his eyes away from the trenchcoat guy’s table.

“You kind of asked for that,” Sam commented lightly. “He’s looking at you, you know.”

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean warned. “And stop looking at him.”

He drank his beer in record time, still feeling the remnants of his embarrassment. Part of him wanted to leave but he wasn’t going to be scared off by some hot guy who’d happened to have a sharp tongue. Still, he needed another drink if he was going to forget his humiliation, so he got up to order a couple of shots, leaning against the counter.

A few moments later, something garish and pink was set down in front of him, and it actually contained an umbrella.

“Dude, the hell is this?” He asked, pursing his lips in irritation.

“From the guy in the trenchcoat,” the bartender jerked his head. “Already paid for.”

Dean snatched the drink up and walked over to the guy, intending to dump the thing over his head for rubbing salt in his wounds.

“Listen, trenchcoat-“

“Castiel,” the guy cut him off, looking up at Dean with eyes that held no sign of malice, which blindsided Dean for a minute. “Look, if you don’t want the drink, it’s okay. I just think you should try it. You might find you like it, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Dean swallowed and looked down at the drink in his hand. There wasn’t really any harm in that. The guy genuinely didn’t seem like he was making fun of Dean, so why keep up this defense? “Fine,” he muttered begrudgingly. “Thanks for the drink.”

He held his head up high as he walked back to his table, sitting down opposite Sam and refusing to meet his eyes. “If you so much as comment, I will break your nose,” he grunted, eyeing the drink with disdain. Something that colour just couldn’t taste good. It looked bright and artificial and sickly.

“I’m not using the damn straw,” he huffed, pulling it out and discarding it, before figuring what the hell. He took a big gulp of the drink and screwed his face up in expectation.

Huh. What did you know? It was sweet and strong and fruity, and it tasted like strawberries. It wasn’t something he’d order again, but it tasted pretty damn good. Dean licked the cream smeared at the corner of his mouth and shrugged, eventually looking up to give Castiel a thumbs up, only to find he was gone, the door just swinging closed.

Disappointed, Dean finished the rest of the drink, regretting the fact that he hadn’t had an opportunity to apologize or give Castiel his number. Not that he expected the guy to call or anything, he hadn’t exactly made the best first impression. Pushing the glass away, he got up to go and get the shots he’d first requested.

Thankfully, this time he got them, and the bartender slid the glasses over along with a scrap of paper. “Trenchcoat guy left this for you,” he smirked knowingly.

Dean snatched up the paper and unfolded it to see a phone number, written neatly on notepaper from a motel just around the corner. Grinning triumphantly, he paid for his shots and drained them. A few minutes later, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, staring at the screen for a moment as he tried to work out what to say.

_Hey Cas, it’s Dean from the bar. Thanks again for the drink. It was actually pretty good. –DW_

The reply was swift, as if Castiel had been waiting for the text. Dean grinned as he flicked it open, pointedly ignoring his brother’s smug look as he read the reply.

_You’re very welcome, Dean. So I’m in Room 24 if you want to come by. Or are you still planning to deny yourself something that could be very good? -CN_

Grinning, Dean tossed his own motel room key towards Sam and told him not to wait up as he swept out of the bar. He’d made that mistake once tonight, and he would be a fool to make it again.

**Author's Note:**

> [MY TUMBLR](http://blueeyedangel.co.vu)


End file.
